


how the scene paints itself

by blancnotes



Series: in between the yearbook years [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan is a Little Shit, Love Confessions, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancnotes/pseuds/blancnotes
Summary: Nothing quite spells teenage romance like making a fool out of yourself in front of the love of your life.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Series: in between the yearbook years [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849690
Comments: 5
Kudos: 99





	how the scene paints itself

**Author's Note:**

> finally, the sequel to life of the party in mark’s pov that i have been struggling to write. and while i’m incredibly disappointed in myself that this fic never made it in time for markmin month, i still hope you guys enjoy it!! 
> 
> sending much love to the wonderful people reading this, however few, and i hope that all of you are safe and healthy xo

This is how the scene paints itself:

Mark Lee’s state of mind is perfectly reflected on his JanSport backpack. Threadbare, frayed, edges of the logo chipping away, and colors long faded to a murky sky blue wash instead of the navy it once was. 

Simply put, worn out. And the frequent victim of his friends’ unwarranted scrutiny for years.

“You know, you should really get to throwing that out,” Donghyuck looks pointedly as if it was an offending object, poking at the ink-stained bag that lies inches away from him at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been using that shitty backpack ever since I met you, and we’ve known each other for _seven_ years.” 

Renjun snickers from where he’s scandalously strewn on the carpeted floor. His hand is digging into the very same Cheetos bag Mark was originally saving for after dinner, legs bent in an angle that would’ve been seductive, but otherwise screams harebrained with all the orange stains on his jeans. “Just leave him be, man. Poor boy’s got to be noticed by his Romeo somehow and we know Jaemin only looks at him when he makes ugly ass jokes about his ugly ass bag.”

Sputtering, Mark only sinks further into his swiveling chair with poorly-concealed flushed ears. “But I don’t need a new one as long as this works! And why am _I_ Juliet? I have some pretty sweet guns,” he gestures offhandedly to his arms swimming underneath his hoodie. “And I did some fencing so, like, uh, sword skills? Plus, my mom says I’ve got a nice face!” 

“Oh _please,_ you’ve got nothing on Romeo, you _knave,”_ Renjun’s Cheeto-stained finger points at him accusingly. “All you do is mope about a boy from a far off distance and write rainbow-shitting poems about him. What else would you be, if not a fair maiden weeping in wait?”

“Aye, the boy has a point.” Donghyuck nods, rather sagely. “Also, your mom has myopia and sees you once a month on Skype with that grainy Nokia camera. No offense but I don’t think she deserves much credibility.”

“And what _guns?_ You did fencing for a week and you refused to come back because, I quote, _‘my instant noodle arms have only melted into its original form of wax’_ , unquote.”

“Did you just say unquote out loud?” Mark stares at Renjun, incredulous, before shaking his head. There were moments best left unquestioned and one of them is his friends’ wavering sanity. “Alright, points taken, even if some of those were straight up insults, but you have to admit that Na Jaemin is like, _intimidating_ , yeah?” 

Both boys wear an eerily similar expression of blatant disappointment.

“Hyung. Mark Lee. My dude. Jaemin has _pink_ hair,” Donghyuck says dryly. His voice is now treading on a graveling tone of exhaustion and Mark can’t even blame him. He’s tired of running from his feelings like chickenshit as well. “This is the guy who offers to water the flowers at the garden, makes extra cookies for the kids with no lunch, and hangs out with that freshman Park Jisung. I mean, of _all_ people, it’s Park Jisung! Imagine being over six feet tall and still crying about swans being _gay_ —”

Renjun side-eyes him with a hint of exasperation. “Alright, no need to be heated about Park Jisung just because he took your solo stage for the next showcase—”

“That’s not why I’m mad!”

“—but Mark-hyung, he’s right. Crushes are exciting and scary, but talking to him shouldn’t be like some life-or-death issue unless you’ve been hopelessly in love with him for years, right?”

All of a sudden, Renjun springs upward with an audible gasp. The remnants of the Cheeto bag fall to the carpet in a blast, horrendous orange dust staining the floor that nearly has Mark weeping if it weren’t for the ghastly pale expression on Renjun’s face. But before either one of them can even speak, Donghyuck has already stormed closer with thudding footsteps and a twinning look of shock, and both younger boys stare down at him in silence.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Donghyuck who slaps him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What the _fuck,_ Hyuck?!”

“You! You absolute _harlot!_ You better tell us everything or else!” 

Renjun screeches at his face with the same fervent decibel level. “You’ve been in love with Na Jaemin for fucking _years_ now and you’ve never had the decency to even tell us?!”

“I thought that was already the agenda here!” Mark’s hands are raised in mock surrender and slight frustration as he folds himself further into the chair, knees bent to his chest out of self-defense in case someone (read: Donghyuck) lunges at him. “I mean, isn’t it kind of obvious when all I do is cry about him?!” 

“We thought you had a _crush,_ as in, you’d obsess over him every now and then but you’d move on after you graduate.” Donghyuck doesn’t even look the least bit guilty as he carries on. “If you could’ve told us about how whipped you were then _maybe,_ I don’t know, we could’ve done something about it? And you could’ve been swapping spit with Na Jaemin right now instead of eating your moldy ass Cheetos?”

“Fuck _no,_ ” it’s then that Mark digs his weight into the heels of his feet, padding and inching farther away from both boys with a disconcerting speed. The chair violently creaks from the heavy movement but he sits determined, sneering. “You nasty pieces of shit would only pull some idiotic prank to embarrass me in front of him!”

Surprisingly, Donghyuck lets the insult fly past his head as he crosses his arms. “So? At least we would’ve done _something._ You’re out here practically stuck in limbo. All you do is drool over Jaemin and his pretty pink hair and his pretty face and his pretty flat ass—”

“Well duh, have you _seen_ Na Jaemin? He’s like, always alone.” This interrogation is taking far too long for Mark’s comfort and he’s afraid he might break into cold sweat any moment now. “I think I might scare him off the moment I ask him out. The timing _needs_ to be perfect because he deserves more than just flowers and everyone staring in the middle of a hallway, you know?”

“We get it, bitch.” Renjun scoffs. “You wanna husband him up or something. So what? Get in line. Plenty more of guys here who think that way.”

_“What?”_ Mark bristles in his seat, visibly alarmed. “I'm sorry, what do you mean _plenty more?_ Does Na Jaemin have his own set of fanboys here?”

“I mean, why _not,_ dude?” Donghyuck looks affronted, as if on behalf of Jaemin. “Guy's quite the looker and is pretty nice from what I hear. People are bound to like him one way or another.”

Na Jaemin, honorary guest of practically every conversation that takes place in Mark’s room, happens to be one of the straight-laced, honor roll kids who fade into the background by choice. Striking enough to catch your eye, but slips away the moment any guarded conversation heads out of the academic bounds. 

Except, ironically, for all the guy’s insistence to keep to himself, he unwittingly hogs the spotlight in school.

He's not exactly the kind of loud that turns heads in the hallways, no banging lockers and ringing laughter. But he's pretty. _Beautiful,_ Mark would even argue. Long lashes fanning doe eyes and a gentle, placid grin. The quiet type of pretty that has you staring before you even know it, all the more spellbound.

Mark wouldn’t say he’s unaware of the extent of Jaemin’s popularity, but it’s not often that some nameless guy would brave the crowd to woo him, and the few that do are mostly bi-curious hets looking for a seemingly easy lay. So, frankly, it never seemed as a shock to see Jaemin dumping flowers in the trash sometimes. Never felt like competition when Jaemin doesn’t look the least bit guilty as he walks away.

Still, that doesn’t give him any more of a chance than the rest of these losers.

“Honestly, this whole Romeo thing started out fun but if I have to proofread one more sonnet, I’m dropping out,” Renjun retreats to Mark’s bed with a dramatic plop, not missing the opportunity to kick his abused bag in the process, much to Mark’s chagrin. “Just do something, hyung. Give him chocolates, buy him more math worksheets, throw yourself out the window— _anything._ ”

Donghyuck starts waving his phone with a wily grin. “Oh but let me know ahead if you plan on throwing yourself out the window. I need some time to find the perfect camera view.”

“Both of you are useless. Get out.”

“I’d like to say _all_ of us are useless,” ever the smartass, Donghyuck only simpers. “But I would also like to say that at least _I_ have the balls to make sure Na Jaemin notices you, and you’ll be thanking me for this one day.”

The rational part of Mark’s brain that serves as a Hyuck Hazard Alarm starts ringing incessantly, a string of blaring Code Red-s that has him jumping forward with clenched fists and gritted teeth. “If you mess with Na Jaemin, I swear to God, I will shit on your Michael Jackson vinyls—”

_“Ladies,”_ Renjun steps in between with a smile too close to wry. “You’re both very pretty. Now shut up and drop it because we’re not reality stars and no one’s paying us to start shit and look like morons.”

It’s the same light tone he speaks in any conversation, the same lilt of softness that Renjun has been known for despite his crude vocabulary, but this time, it holds a thin undercurrent of aggravation that doesn't fall on deaf ears. Mark hastily relaxes his hands and throws both boys a look that would hopefully come across as apologetic. 

“Oh come on, you guys should know me by now,” Donghyuck singsongs. “I’m all bark and show anyway. No need to look so constipated like frigid bitches.”

_Yeah right,_ Mark thinks.

He has a feeling he won’t be sleeping soundly anytime soon now.

This is how the story _actually_ starts:

Despite Renjun’s discernible tendency to treat the school population like lab experiments, he’s been a consistent honors student and class officer since childhood, which, by default, brands him as the voice of reason in any unsettling situation.

Which also happens in their friend group nearly every day, but Mark would rather focus on more pressing affairs at the moment.

Currently, he’s standing stupefied in front of the vending machine, hand frozen mid-air and a few inches shy from punching a number. The plan is to carefully leave a variety of small treats on Jaemin’s desk without coming across as a stalker as much as possible. It’s the first of many solid romancing plans he’s laid out after countless nights of ignoring his book report and binge watching Kimi Ni Todoke with Renjun. 

Their _brainchild,_ he would coo. The epitome of modern teenage romance.

“Jesus, just get some random juice box and leave it on his desk. How hard can that be?” Donghyuck pipes up with gruff impatience, always the one to ruin the silence in whatever place. “You’re treating this like some Stats final you’re supposed to calculate and it’s ridiculous. Just close your eyes and push in the direction where your finger _believes_ it should be, brother.”

He says this with an arm casually slung across Renjun’s shoulders, their hips pressed too precariously close to be excused as platonic. And what surprises Mark the most is that Renjun is eerily silent, choosing not to comment on the sudden amount of skin contact when he’s engrossed in whatever game it is on his phone.

Mark eyes them warily for a moment before turning to the glass display of beverages. “But what if I fuck up and buy him something he hates? Then it’s like going back to square one again.”

“Not like you ever had balls big enough to _actually_ get to square one,” Donghyuck sticks his tongue out. He’s far too old for the peskiness to look endearing, but Mark spares himself the trouble of throwing hands in a public setting.

“Can it, Lee. I’m doing my best here.”

“You’re _literally_ named Lee too. Stop shushing yourself, weirdo.”

Renjun’s exasperated sigh echoes heavily like a chiding elder. “You’re both weirdos so cut it out. We’ve been standing here for ten minutes already and we all look suspicious as fuck.” His eyes finally flicker away from the screen to give Mark a sharp glare. “Mark-hyung, just keep it classic and get the plain milk. Woo him like you’re building a harem of kouhais in your own shonen manga.”

“Holy shit, don’t tell me you’re still a huge weeb, Injunnie.” gushes Donghyuck. “Oh my god, that’s so _cute_. I never thought I’d say this to your face, but I was really sad when you grew out of your Pokemon phase. You looked so tiny trying so hard to evolve your Piplup back then, and I just felt bad everytime I hid your DS inside my boxers.”

Renjun regards him with a look of disgust. “Repel.”

“Guys, guys,” Mark butts in, raising a palm-sized milk carton. “I got it already. Let’s just head straight to his classroom before he finds out.”

“Wait, you’re not writing a note?”

Mark meets Renjun’s confused gaze. “Why would I write a note?”

“Because he might think someone else accidentally left it on his desk?” Donghyuck says. “For all we know, Na Jaemin could brush it off as just one of his creepy fanboys waiting for a chance to jump on him. Oh _wait,”_ a wry smile curls on his face. “Maybe that’s not so far off from the truth.”

“One of these days, I will seriously _end_ you,” Mark sighs, but for all of his internal complaints, he starts digging into his slack’s pockets with an unnecessary amount of resolve. “Alright, which one of you losers happen to have a sharpie and spare post-it?”

Five minutes and a stolen stack of sticky notes later (Donghyuck had the guts to sneak into the faculty office), Mark’s head is poking from behind a neighboring classroom’s doorway, eyes trained on the corridor where Jaemin is bounding over from the restroom and a stringy Park Jisung trails behind with meek footsteps.

Renjun speaks up after a few beats of silence. “Okay, why are we acting like we’re in Mission Impossible but ten times creepier and amateurish?”

Donghyuck chortles from behind him. “Considering the fact that senpai’s raging heart boner over here has never been noticed, I’d say this mission _does_ seem impossible.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to focus here,” Mark briefly turns to glare at both boys. _“Shit,_ I think he saw it already. Pray for my soul.” And he rushes to crouch underneath the windows of Jaemin’s classroom, feeling vaguely like a meerkat popping out from a burrow . 

“Milk?” He sees Jisung staring at the carton, brows furrowed. “Who on earth? No, _why_ would someone leave _you_ milk?”

Is it possible to suddenly have arrhythmia? Mark can practically hear his heart hammering against his chest.

The sigh Jaemin lets out sounds weary. “I don’t know. I don’t think they mean any harm anyway. The note sounds...nice.”

It’s then that Jisung flips the milk around and spots the sticky note, where Mark’s chicken scratch comes into view rather anticlimactically. _“Enjoy.”_ Jisung reads in a flat voice. “That’s it? Enjoy? Hyung, do you realize how vaguely sinister this sounds?”

Mark snorts from where he’s bent hiding, slightly affronted.

“How surprising of you to use a big word,” Jaemin snorts, which quickly melts into a fat chuckle when he sees Jisung pouting. “I’m _kidding,_ Sungie. Just take the damn milk and go. I hate dairy anyway.”

Oh.

_Shit._

Mark stumbles away before he can hear any further, a sinking feeling quickly gathering at the pit of his stomach as he’s slumped against the wall of an empty hallway. But then he hears footsteps thundering across the staircase, the characteristic shrill of Donghyuck and Renjun arguing about yet another mindless topic, and he forces himself to stand straight, grimacing.

“And he’s back!” Donghyuck is quick to amble closer, all up in his space as expected. “How are we feeling, champ?”

Renjun is a little quiet when he stands farther back, but he’s peering at Mark with wide, expectant eyes. 

“So? How’d it go?”

_“Horrible,”_ He nearly cries. His head is still reeling. “Na Jaemin _hates_ milk. Holy shit. Why did I not think of that? After a shit ton of planning, what are the odds that he fucking hates dairy?”

“Small.” Renjun says. He’s doing that firm therapist voice that he usually does to talk Donghyuck out of his dumbassery, and while Mark is incredibly grateful, it doesn’t help ease how defeated he feels. “Very small odds, I’ll tell you that. But it doesn’t matter. This only happened once. You can do better next time.”

“Next time.” He parrots, sighing, but the words don't feel particularly nice in his mouth. “Ah, fuck it. At least I forgot to sign the note with my name.” 

“Geez, talk about a huge save.” Donghyuck whistles. “Guess we just need to plan better then, buddy.”

This is where Mark is beginning to reassess his choice of friends:

Frankly, he thinks it’s a generous statement to consider himself a decent guy, but he sure does feel like a fucking saint compared to the likes of Lee Donghyuck and Huang Renjun who, for example, exploit their vast connection around the school's hierarchy by using said people at their disposal.

“You want info on what Na Jaemin likes?” 

And a recurring figure behind their schemes is Zhong Chenle, mathematics extraordinaire with a head big enough to hold every student’s secret. And in some way, Mark supposes he’s practically a broker for information—some sort of “insider” job he does for a price.

Mark also thinks it would most likely land him in juvie before the year ends, but no one else has made a big deal of it yet so apparently, ethical boundaries are somehow still in place.

“Jesus, are you one of his mindless fans?” The disgust is apparent by the scowl on his pale face. And at the back of his mind, Mark wonders just how many people have gone through this boy for the exact same reason. “Sungie warned me about those kinds of folks before, and let me be clear here that I don’t steal anyone’s DNA samples, even if you need just a single hair strand for your voodoo dolls.”

“Uh, ignoring all the weirdos you’ve dealt with, do I look like the type to thirst over men? _Men?_ Of all people?” Donghyuck makes a gurgling noise that vaguely sounds distressed, but Renjun ignores him to inch closer to Chenle’s desk, hands slamming on the wood. “Just tell us the basics you know, Zhong. Favorite food? Favorite band?”

Chenle sighs. The hesitation is still apparent in his eyes as he speaks. “Listen, I feel kinda bad because it’s like I’m selling out Nana-hyung here and you know how pretty chummy I am with the guy. So all I’m gonna say is that he hates strawberries and pretty much anything dairy and— _wait,_ is that Mark Lee behind you?”

Mark jolts at the sudden attention. He feels a little faint when he’s surrounded by underclassmen that could most probably bite him unprovoked. 

“Um. Yes. Hi, I’m Mark Lee. I’m the one who really wanted to ask about Jaemin.”

_“Oh.”_ There’s a slight tremor to his voice as his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh my god. You know what, nevermind. I’ll do this for free since things are a wee bit interesting for me now,” and he’s leaning forward in his seat, eyes glinting with the beady kind of mischief. “So, Jaemin-hyung likes anything sugary but lately, he’s been obsessed with raspberry chocolate brownies. And I know a bakery that sells those so I’ll just send you the location and—”

“Chenle! You got any comics for me to borrow?”

Chenle’s head whips to the direction of the voice, perking up in recognition. “Jeno hyung! You came just in time for the good part. Mark Lee is asking about Nana hyung!”

“What the fuck—” Mark nearly blanches. 

There should be a confidentiality agreement for this, however free the services were offered. 

“Mark-hyung?” Lee Jeno, however, doesn’t seem to be the least bit surprised to spot him, head only cocking to the side while his eyes sweep over Mark’s frozen form. “Asking as in, the romantically interested kind of ask? The whole dating shebang?” 

Belatedly, Mark realizes that this is the Lee Jeno who was once Renjun’s summer fling a year back—one that had, in his friend’s words, _“ended very, very badly.”_

Which also probably explains why Donghyuck seems agitated at his sudden presence and Renjun looks like his soul is halfway through leaving his body right now.

“Yes!” Chenle only chirps in blissful ignorance. “I was just telling him about hyung’s favorite brownies!”

Jeno hums. “And he wants to date my best friend, huh?”

The thing is, Mark knows Lee Jeno. Perhaps not as much as Renjun, but he’s been sort of acquainted with the guy over said summer a year back, and while Mark sees him as a relatively harmless puppy with a strong jawline game, there’s something incredibly intimidating with his stare at the moment. A little guarded. Judging. 

“Uh,” he replies eloquently. “Yes. Yes, I’ve been...trying to shoot my shot recently.”

And before he can break into a cold sweat (Do feelings make you weak? Why is he so threatened by boys younger than him?), Jeno suddenly grins, eyes folding into wrinkled crescents as he laughs, a little loud. “Oh thank fuck. You should really ask him out soon, yeah? Preferably before finals come to bite him in the ass ‘cause he’ll be too cranky to deal with by then.”

“Right. Thank you for your wonderful input.” Donghyuck doesn’t sound particularly grateful as his hands slam down Mark's shoulders, fingers digging into his bones while he practically steers (read: manhandles) him into the door's direction. “Well, I’m sorry to cut this meeting short but we need to leave now. Just text us whatever details you need to, Chenle.”

Jeno snickers, signature eye smile still in place. “But you don’t have to leave so soon, Hyuck. We’ve got half an hour left for lunch and Chenle has some pretty cool board games under his desk. How ‘bout one round of Monopoly?”

“Wonderful offer, but we really need to bounce.” Renjun says coolly. Unlike Jeno, he’s practically the other side of the same coin. Stoic, detached. “So, if you’ve got nothing important left to say then good riddance—”

“Zhong Chenle! You better be in here because you and I need to talk!”

“Wow, I guess I’m pretty popular today.” Chenle chuckles, but it’s a little strained, falling short when his eyes land on the latest intruding figure. “Oh _shi_ —hey, Nana-hyung! What brings you here?”

Mark feels like he pulled a muscle from how fast he craned his neck around. “What do you _mean_ he’s here,”

And lo and behold, Na Jaemin stands a few meters from where the rest of them are situated, a small frown marring his soft features as he practically lunges with clenched fists. And while the sight isn’t as movie-level heart-fluttering as Mark expected—mostly because of Jaemin’s murderous expression—he can’t stop the flush crawling to his neck and cheeks nonetheless. 

“I’m here because you and Jisung are little shits for changing my wallpaper to Ma—” then his voice trails off once he spots Mark’s little friend group loitering around Chenle’s desk. It’s like a switch was flipped with the way he turns meek and stops a whole meter away to bow. “Um, uh, hello. I see Chenle has a lot of visitors today. And Jeno’s around, as always.”

“Honestly, I just came to leech off of his manga collection. But Mark-hyung here,” Jeno pulls Mark out of Donghyuck’s grip, draping a heavy arm around the older boy’s shoulders that has him awkwardly chuckling at the proximity, “is dealing with some important business with Lele. His friends just tagged along for moral support.”

“Business?” Jaemin echoes, puzzled. “Why would he need Lele’s help?”

And because the world seemingly wants Mark to perish, it’s Chenle—adorable, perky Chenle with a mouth that he badly wants to tape shut—who answers.

“Because he wants a date with a hyung I know!”

A beat of silence. 

Mark feels himself holding in his breath as he catches Jaemin blinking, looking a little floored with his mouth agape that it takes a while for him to speak.

“...a date? With who? _Jeno?”_ The shrill of his voice at the end hints a bit of incredulity that Mark doesn’t want to read into deeply.

Meanwhile, Jeno’s nose scrunches in irritation. “Hey, don’t make it sound like I’m some B-grade boyfriend material. Renjun said I was a good kisser.”

“Irrelevant.” Renjun snaps. “Please don’t stray from the topic at hand.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely—”

_“I’m leaving.”_ Jaemin abruptly waves all of them off, frowning. And in a fit of panic, Mark tries to meet his eyes, but the younger boy is already spinning on his heels, hands reaching for the doorknob. “Sorry for disturbing and, um, enjoy your date. We’ll just talk after school, Lele.”

And he really does leave without another word. Everyone simply stares at the door left unhinged, a stiff kind of silence blanketing over the room as a flurry of emotions begin to pour inside Mark’s brain.

Is it _embarrassment_ because he had been nearly found out? _Irritation_ because he was caught up in a misunderstanding? Or _disappointment_ because just as expected, he could barely even catch Jaemin’s eye, much more hold a decent conversation with him. 

“Man, talk about awkward,” Donghyuck pipes up to break his train of thought. Unsurprisingly unhelpful yet again, but Mark feels a little satisfied to see Renjun jabbing his bony elbow into the boy’s stomach.

“But why would you—” He turns to Chenle, visibly flustered. “I didn’t say anything about a _date!_ I was just asking about what he likes and—”

“Shush, young padawan.” Chenle holds out a palm out, rather sagely. “Patience, you must have. For the romance will bloom in good time. And I know Na Jaemin can be an aggressive bitch once he snaps.”

This is where Donghyuck sort of fucked up:

Lee Donghyuck holds an unnecessary amount of snark that Mark thinks couldn’t be healthy for a teenager, but he’s also incredibly easy to love, and terribly sweet at the most random of times that it borders on suspicious.

Exhibit A: 

**_!! should block him at some point !!_ **

_hey markles_

_wanna eat at the rooftop today?_

_we’re actually already here lmao_

_junnie got the keys from the janitor ohohoho_

_and i packed extra watermelon_ _☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆_

**_You_ **

_Did your phone get a stroke or something?_

_And is that even legal?_

_I thought the rooftop was locked for good_

**_!! should block him at some point !!_ **

_you ask too many questions_

_they do it in anime all the time why can’t we_

_also,,, u don’t want watermelon????_

_sliced them in thicc ass chunks just for u daddy-o (´ ε ` )♡_

**_You_ **

_Disgusting_

_I’m screenshotting this for Renjun_

_Also see you there in five_

In retrospect, it should’ve been way too good to be true. Because for one, Donghyuck _never_ texts him. He’d call if it was necessary. Hell, he’d call even if it was _unnecessary_ because, in his words, _“you should feel blessed to hear my voice every day, you ingrate”,_ and Mark has learned to live with the fact that his phone is perpetually on silent now.

Alas, the prospect of free watermelon has him blinded from all logic, the Hyuck Hazard Alarm shutting itself down as he finds himself barrelling past the people at the staircase and gleefully leaps two steps at a time.

“Lee Donghyuck!” He wheezes, thighs rock solid from the strain of running as he kicks the door open. “You better be here because I am _so_ down to eat a whole ass watermelon by myself right now.”

The lone figure he catches standing near the rails jolts at the noise, and a single glance tells Mark that he’s obviously not Lee Donghyuck.

This guy is taller and skinnier, windswept hair puffing in all sorts of directions as he turns around. 

“Hi?” Na Jaemin’s baffled grin is a bit lopsided. And Mark watches as he composes himself for a moment, clearing his throat before offering a small wave, a little bolder this time. “Hi! Not Donghyuck, as you can tell, but he did say something about you wanting to talk to me here?”

_Shit_ , did he just heave like a dying animal in front of this boy?

“Uh, no?” Mark darts his gaze back at the door, as if he was sure his demonic friends were hiding in there with a prank camera. “Donghyuck texted me a while ago. He said he was here having lunch with our other friend, Renjun.”

“Here?” Jaemin gestures offhandedly to the barren place. “I thought this place was permanently locked until I came up. I haven’t seen anyone pass by ever since.”

Mark is _definitely_ making a hit list after this.

Lee Donghyuck will _definitely_ be at the very top of it.

Jaemin’s phone makes a soft _ping_ in his hand and he’s quick to check it. “Oh! Donghyuck just texted me!” Mark doesn’t even dare question how Donghyuck got Jaemin’s number. “He said you, um, have...m-major heart problems? What?”

_“What?”_ Mark practically screeches.

Jaemin looks terribly aghast as he skims over the message, hands trembling against the edges of his phone. “Uh, he said you’ve been having irregular heart rates for the past few years now and you’re often stressed out and depressed because of it.” He looks up with heavy, teary eyes that Mark could only feel immense _guilt_ on Donghyuck’s behalf _._ “I’m _so,_ so sorry this is happening to you, but my mom is a cardiac nurse! Maybe I could recommend you to the hospital she works at and—”

“Excuse me for a moment,” 

Mark is very much aware that it’s rude to snatch someone’s phone, but frankly, he couldn’t care less now, fingers hastily typing on Jaemin’s keyboard with the kind of fury that he’s sure would have cracked the screen at any given moment.

**_You_ **

_Fuck off, you’re dead meat as soon as I see you_

**_Lee Donghyuck_ **

_????_

_Na Jaemin ?????_

_OhHHh wait_

_it’s mark lee_

_yea sure lol whatever_

_come back to me when ur not single_

**_You_ **

_Not funny, Donghyuck_

_The poor guy looked really scared for me_

“Sorry,” he grunts as he hands back the phone. He’s a little pissed because Donghyuck’s plan is obviously poorly thought out, but he does his best to hide the strain in his voice in case Jaemin takes it personally. “It seems that there’s a huge misunderstanding here because I definitely do _not_ have any heart problems. This is probably one of my stupid friends’ stupid pranks again. I’m so sorry.” 

“Oh,” Mark doesn’t know how to read Jaemin’s blank look, but he’s fairly sure it can’t be anything good from the way he’s rapidly blinking. “That’s, um, well, _okay?_ I-I mean,” he suddenly starts flailing his hands, eyes wide, “definitely not okay that you’re pranking people! But I’m not mad or anything. No harm done so I should, uh, go now? I guess?”

“Right.” Mark nods. _“Right._ Okay. Sorry again for all the trouble.”

Jaemin only smiles, a little tight, as he starts walking out. And Mark allows the familiarity of the sinking feeling to pool around his guts, staring at the boy’s retreating figure, frustrated.

“Fucking hell. You seriously need to grow a pair, Mark Lee.”

  
  
  


This is when luck finally seemed to side with Mark:

“That was your _chance!”_

“And I’m telling you, there could’ve been a better opportunity than making him freak out over some imaginary heart disease!”

“Guys,” Renjun cuts in with a scowl.

“Not now, Jun,” Mark scowls right back at him before turning to Donghyuck. “Seriously, man. I appreciate all the help you’ve done but I’ve been feeling like shit lately because you guys are right, all I do is cry about this boy. So I want to do it right by my own terms. No pranks, no plans without me knowing, and no interfering. _Please.”_

“Okay, I gotta admit I’m sorry for pulling that shit too.” Donghyuck is uncharacteristically sullen with crossed arms and pressed lips. “You’re right. It’s your business so it’s gonna be your call in the end.” 

Between them, Renjun heaves a long sigh that could only come from years of pent up frustration. “No, seriously guys, you need to listen—”

Donghyuck interrupts him with a flat palm held out to Renjun’s face. “But what I’m not sorry for is actually doing _something_ about it. Because seriously, Mark, you don’t have to make everything perfect like some Hollywood romcom. I get that it’s a big deal for you, but you’re going to lose every chance you can get if you’re out there chasing the right moment. In fact, it’s probably never going to come to you because you have shit luck!” 

At least Donghyuck still has the decency to look apologetic when the scowl on Mark’s face deepens. “Alright, what I mean is, you _come_ to chase that right moment. Beat it with a club. Own it when Jaemin stands in front of you. Because you’re out here panicking about other fanboys, perfect gifts, and sweet words when all you really need to do is take a deep breath, find where your heart lies, and fucking _listen.”_

The frustration wringing over Mark’s face slightly dampens, but he finds that his heart is still heavy. “But you don’t understand! I can’t just fucking come up to him and be like _hey, Jaemin, did you know that I’ve been in love with you for years after you saved my ass once?_ Fucking loser, right? Always clamming up whenever he’s near that I probably look like some constipated bitch who hates him—”

“Can you _fuckers_ calm your tits for a _second_ and let me speak?!” Renjun grabs both the collars of their shirts with a surprisingly firm grip, and the dirty look he’s flashing right after is nothing short of murderous. “While your little bro moment is incredibly touching to make me sob solid man tears, you’re missing the fact that we’ve got an audience _right in front of us!”_

  
  


“Audience?” Donghyuck wriggles around to escape Renjun’s hands, though his efforts look a little futile from the way the smaller boy is fisting his shirt. “What audience? We’re at the rooftop, for fuck’s sake.”

“Uh, you guys were pretty loud.” Jeno’s gravelly drawl suddenly echoes from behind. “Next time you try to duke it out, maybe find some place other than the school’s supposedly locked up rooftop? Because, you know, this is a _school?”_

“This is actually my first time here,” Jisung comments as his eyes dart all over the place. There are bits of chipped paint falling from the rails but otherwise, an empty ground as always, save for Mark’s little friend group all entangled in the middle. “Looks pretty ugly to me, but I think it’d be fun to Nerf everyone at point blank here, right, Chenle?”

“Of course!”

Immediately, Mark stiffens in Renjun’s hold, realization abruptly coming to bite him in the ass. Because where Lee Jeno goes, Zhong Chenle and Park Jisung follow, and when the three of them are all gathered here, then there’s usually—

“Children, learn to read the room, will you?”

—Na Jaemin.

Renjun quickly retracts his hand from Mark’s shirt with an awkward chuckle, but his death grip on Donghyuck remains as he, quite forcibly, tugs the boy away. “Alright, I feel like it would only be appropriate to leave Mark-hyung and Jaemin here to...talk things out. So yeah, have fun with your alone time, kids! Try to keep it in your pants, okay?”

Jeno silently walks back to the door after throwing Mark a teasing smirk, and Donghyuck points a chiding finger at the two sophomores still rooted in their spot. Which, admittedly, looks a bit incredulous considering how he’s being dragged at his shirt’s collar by force, but somehow, he still manages to look mildly threatening.

“You brats should scram already before they start making out.”

Jisung side-eyes him with a glare. “But I don’t even know you people,”

Wrong answer, as it seems, because Donghyuck flashes a grin menacing enough to have both boys bristling. “Oh but you _will,”_

And apparently, that’s enough to send the two of them running.

With everyone else basically abandoning them (not that he had any good reason to think they would stay), Mark can only swallow the whine bubbling at his throat and exhales, albeit shaky. “Hey, Jaemin.”

“Hello, hyung.” 

“So,” he starts. “How much did you...exactly hear?”

Jaemin, as expected, only smiles, too polite and reserved that Mark could never read whatever emotion it is slating inside his mind. “Would it be a little embarrassing to say _everything?”_

“Fuck,” He groans. “Fuck, I can explain. Let me just—”

Mark had always wondered how this whole moment would go down. 

When his mind is muddled with sleep and he’s melting into his bed, he often thinks of cherry blossoms and the crisp gust of the spring breeze. Then he sees Na Jaemin’s hair, as pink as the falling flowers, gently tousled, and his eyes gleaming of something akin to surprise when Mark walks closer to him. And it’s the epitome of everything romantic and picturesque that it could probably look like some Hayao Miyazaki movie.

But now, he’s here at some ratty, abandoned rooftop, sweating profusely under his rumpled shirt in front of the boy he likes, and it’s not even remotely close to the spring fairyland he’s always fantasized but he thinks _‘fuck it’_ as he takes a deep breath, finds where his heart lies, and _listens._

“This is going to sound really, _really_ stupid but I have...liked you for years now, ever since you told off those stupid freshman for making fun of my accent everytime I spoke in Korean. And it might’ve developed into a really fat crush that only got progressively worse after I found out how smart you were and how cute you looked every time you sang to the flowers at the garden. And ever since that day at the party, I thought I had a chance with you and _christ,_ I’m such a creep. I should stop now.”

“No!” Jaemin’s fingers curl around his hands, grip blatantly tight even as he trembles. “No, I, uh, I like you too! Have been liking you for quite some time now that it’s embarrassing. I’ve always thought you were funny and cool and when you laugh with your friends, you look really adorable. But I never made a move because I thought I was _way_ out of your league.”

Confusion paints all over Mark’s face. “How could you be out of my league? I thought _you_ were too good to end up with me! I mean, look at me! I can barely fry a decent sunny side up without burning the pan!”

Jaemin shakes his head, eyes glazing over Mark’s as if he was in search for something. “The party.” He says, cryptic. “It just messed me up because I was so convinced you’d never look my way but suddenly, you know my name and you’re smiling at me as I walk home and it’s so _confusing._ Was it because we had fun inside the shitty closet? Because I’m telling you now, I am nowhere near interesting as I seemed that night. I’m boring and too much of a prude and—”

“Na Jaemin, I would let myself be pulled inside a hundred shitty closets if it meant getting to talking and hearing you laugh over and over again.” Mark deadpans. “Wait _no,_ that would imply that you’d have to be inside a shitty closet too.” 

He slaps a hand against his forehead. It stings like a bitch, ringing loud enough to have Jaemin flinching, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to keep up with the pretense that this day isn’t in shambles. 

“Okay, what I really mean is, I’ve liked you for so long that my friends are now mad at me for always chickening out from saying it. And they actually threw that stupid party because they thought I could find someone else so I could get over you. But then you showed up looking all pretty and funny and plans changed. Suddenly, I’m back to square one and you're the only boy I can see. But just so you know, I really wanted to kiss you that night so bad, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with that so—“

The words die down in silence as Mark feels himself getting pulled closer, Jaemin tilting his head lower just when their noses are a few inches shy from actually bumping, and the moment their lips press together with no absolute finesse, Mark just feels _mindless._ Too shocked to take in the reality of what’s actually happening. 

Admittedly, Mark has often thought of first loves as unhinged and careless. Everything messy and hot-blooded because with youth comes the grandiose expectations that could fall short. And when you’re too inexperienced and impatient with what an undeniably flawed world has to offer, it’s bound to leave a lot of room for mistakes and faults. 

And he’s right—everything about Jaemin just makes him messy and unhinged and careless but it’s _perfect._ Absolutely perfect when Jaemin’s arms loop around his neck while his fingers crawl to the taper of the boy’s waist. Absolutely perfect when Jaemin opens his mouth just wide enough for Mark to delve his tongue inside, and when their teeth gently gnash against each other, he can’t help but smile into the kiss, utterly and irrevocably fond. 

“That was,” Mark pulls away after what felt like a whole minute, a little breathless as he tries not to explode when he sees the trail of drool that falls in between them. “Wow. _Wow, holy shit._ I can’t believe I did that.”

Jaemin’s eyes flutter open a few seconds later, cheeks flushed with a pleasant shade of peach. “Oh my god, we kissed!”

“We did,” Mark’s eyes subconsciously drop to the curve of Jaemin’s lips, still slicked with spit that he can’t help but tilt to whisper against the boy’s mouth, “We really did, Jaemin-ah.”

And he leans in to meet him halfway yet again.

This is what Mark failed to consider:

Three weeks later, Mark has finally made peace with the fact that he is now seriously, finally, really dating the boy of his dreams. And though it’s still a little surreal for him to find Jaemin perched at their usual lunch table, laughing at Donghyuck and Renjun’s antics with relative ease, Mark can’t deny that it feels a lot more snug with Jaemin finally in the picture. 

“God, this Physics worksheet is just a pain in my ass,” Jaemin sighs into his beef stew, hand violently rubbing his bloodshot eyes that it strikes Mark with wonder how someone with perfect bone structure could treat it like clay dough. 

“I pulled an all-nighter for this shit but I only ended up finishing half. _Half._ When this whole thing has like, a hundred items on it.” 

“Fuck, tell me about it.” Renjun is sitting right across him, practically withering in his chair when he makes a choking noise that sounds close to disgruntled. “I thought Donghyuck was already a literal pain in the ass after he asked me out, but this...this _satanic_ homework just completely blew all of my other problems out of the water.”

It takes time before the words sink into Mark’s head.

“Wait,” his spoon is frozen mid-air as his jaw falls slack, eyes darting between the two frantically and suddenly, everything makes sense now—the scathing remarks, the occasional tension, the suspicious physical intimacy. Everything was all just an elaborate, childish courting ritual that went on for years right in front of Mark’s salad.

“You guys are seriously dating for real now?”

“Been making out in front of you for days now actually but yeah, thanks for noticing.” snorts Donghyuck, who aims the sharp edge of his fork right at Mark’s direction. “But let’s talk about _you,_ lover boy. Don’t you have other things to worry about? Like, I don’t know, maybe that godforsaken book report you keep putting off that is now, by some unsurprising miracle, due tomorrow?”

“Ah fuck, I completely forgot about that _again.”_ Mark’s spoon falls back to his plate with a loud clatter as he drops his head on Jaemin’s shoulder, snuggling into the boy’s neck with a weary whine (he’s dating the love of his life and he will milk the opportunity to flirt at every given moment, dignity be damned). “Nana, baby, I’m so sorry. We might need to cut back on some cuddle time because I’m a dumbass.” 

“Oh it’s alright, babe,” Jaemin practically purrs as his fingers brush over Mark’s hair. “We’ve got _all_ the time in the world when I come over to yours later anyway.”

Safe to say, they don’t get much homework done that night. 

Or in the morning after, either. 

But Mark can’t find himself to care at the sight of a gaudy C on his paper, not when Na Jaemin is snuggled right beside him on his bed, arms curled around Mark’s chest so gently that he has never felt more at home in his life. 

“God, I really do love you, Na Jaemin.”

“...m’too.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much much appreciated!! and feel free to follow and scream (pls dont actually yell) at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_blancnotes) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/_blancnotes)
> 
> and i've been meaning to write a renhyuck spin off from this series as well, but i wasn't sure if that was something people would want?? let me know what you guys think i should write next for this au!!


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